Saturday Surprises
by TeddyBear98
Summary: What's a man supposed to do when the Flash literally crashes into his living room? In which Barry Allen makes quite the surprise entrance into Captain Singh's house.


**Author's Note:** Gasp! What's this? _Another_ reveal fic involving Captain Singh? I couldn't resist. I apparently have come to love the idea of Singh finding out Barry's identity? This is my third one? Oh well. Anyways, I'm going to say this is set during Season 1 before shit got real crazy lol. So before evil Wells/Eobard has been outed as Reverse Flash. Hope you guys enjoy. This is the first out of the three that is actually set entirely in Singh's POV, and I had a lot of fun with it! Also, Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate it! Double also, for anyone actually still reading this long-ass note, Rob's job is never actually mentioned in the show. So I made one up. That is all.

* * *

It was a rare moment when David Singh got any time to himself. As Captain of the CCPD, he was far too often swamped with work that bled from the work week into the weekend. His husband complained just as often that he was working himself too hard, but it didn't change anything. He did what he had to do to keep Central City safe. Ever since the Particle Accelerator had exploded, that job had become far more complicated, but he refused to quit; at least there was the Flash to fall back on. The red-clad vigilante was a big help.

Today was one of David's rare moments; the week had thankfully gone smoothly with very few cases to handle, and only one recorded metahuman incident. And so the police captain was sitting on his couch in a pair of sweats and a loose t-shirt, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands and a smile on his usually serious face. It was the first Saturday in over three months that he had actually gotten to spend at home. While he wished Rob could be there to enjoy it with him, he understood why he couldn't be; his job as a photographer meant that he tended to be gone for a few hours on the weekends; today he was working a wedding about an hour away, on the edge of Central City. So David relaxed alone, working on catching up on some of the shows he had cluttering up the DVR.

He was about halfway through his second episode of Chicago Fire when he almost had a heart attack.

As a cop, his motto was pretty much to expect the unexpected. But he was definitely not expecting the Flash to come crashing through his living room window in an explosion of glass on his much-needed day off. But suddenly there he was, his familiar figure lying still in the middle of his carpet, eyes closed; he was out cold. David's coffee mug fell from his hands, spilling the rest of the drink. For a moment, he could only stare, his heart still pounding hard in his chest. And then his instincts kicked in and he was up in seconds.

The first thing he of course wanted to do was check on the hero, but he walked around him, careful to avoid stepping on the sharp pieces of glass with his bare feet; the first thing he _had_ to do was make sure that nothing else was going to come crashing into his house in pursuit of him. Singh made it to the broken window quickly and peered out anxiously; the only thing he saw was a figure's back, walking away down the otherwise quiet street. Of course, he was a suspect, probably the one who had caused the current predicament. But he was not the police captain's second priority. Seeing as there was no immediate danger to himself or the Flash, he immediately turned and went back to the man who was still sprawled out across his carpet, blood from a wound on his shoulder leaking out and creating a stain that would definitely not easily come out.

When David reached the Flash again, he cleared a patch of glass away from his right side and knelt down beside the man, trying to scan him over for any obvious injuries besides the one on his shoulder. He didn't have much medical training; he was not a paramedic, and he knew it would have been easier to call an ambulance and let them deal with the superhero. But that was the problem: he was a _superhero._ And in order to treat him properly, they would have to remove his cowl. They would know who he was, and his secret wouldn't stay very secret if he was rushed into a hospital without said cowl covering his face. David took a deep breath. He could handle this, right? The man didn't look _too_ bad off.

The damned suit was not helping matters, however. He didn't know what was going on under it, if there was anything he couldn't see. His nose looked like it might be broken however, and Singh bit gently at his lip. If his nose was broken, he might have more facial injuries, potentially dangerous ones. After all, there was some reason he was unconscious. He might have hit his head being thrown through the glass, or beforehand.

David almost wanted to curse. What was he supposed to do? He had already decided he couldn't - well, wouldn't - call 911. But could he...was it okay if _he_ _-_? The police captain hesitantly reached for the cowl covering the man's face, the only thing keeping his secret a secret. Then he pulled his hand back almost as quickly. Reached for it again, stopped himself. This time he did curse. Why did things like this happen to him? For several more seconds, he just kept staring at the still passed out superhero. He was only moved again into action when he saw the blood start to leak from his forehead region, seeping down and freeing itself from somewhere in the cowl, dripping down his face. Singh took a deep breath, making a split-second decision -

And reached his hand out again, carefully tugging the cowl off of the man's face before he could stop himself.

If he were standing, he probably would have stumbled backwards. As it was now, he settled for an expression of complete and and utter shock. Because holy shit, that was _Barry Allen._

The Flash was Barry fucking Allen.

It didn't seem possible, yet there he was, as the Flash, dripping a copious amount of blood from not one but _two_ damn wounds on his living room carpet. It didn't make sense. Yet it did, he realized with a jolt. The Particle Accelerator, the lightning, the coma. The Flash showing up right after his awakening. The chronic lateness, the random disappearances in the middle of the day. His friendship with Caitlin Snow and Cisco Ramon from STAR Labs and - how the hell had he _not seen it sooner?_

David momentarily closed his eyes, trying to get a grip. Yes, this was a big shock. But now was not the time to let emotions stop him from what he needed to do. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes again, determination set in them. He got up, careful once again not to step on the scattered glass in his bare feet, and went to the medicine cabinet in his bathroom. When he came back, he was carrying medical tape, a roll of gauze, a hand towel and a bottle of liquid disinfectant. He wasted no time now kneeling beside the young CSI, setting most of the supplies down before opening up the disinfectant and pouring a decent amount onto the towel. He then started dabbing at the wound in his shoulder, then the one on his forehead once he was satisfied with the first. Barry's face scrunched up, and he let out a noise of discomfort, struggling weakly, nearly causing Singh to jump out of his skin. But he forced himself to stay mostly calm, for Barry's sake.

"It's okay, Allen," he said, his voice gentle; gentler a tone than he had probably ever used to speak to his employee before today, before this moment. "It's Captain Singh. You're okay. Just stay still."

Barry's eyelids fluttered for a moment, a halfhearted attempt to open them it seemed before the action stopped entirely and he went still once more. It was worrying to Singh, but he kept up his work, finishing disinfecting the wounds until he deemed it good enough, then grabbing the gauze. It didn't take long for him to have both of the injuries wrapped and taped to make sure the bandaging stayed secure. Once he was done, the police captain took another deep breath, taking a moment to look over his work. He thought he had done pretty good, all things considering. But he wasn't done yet.

"Alright, Allen, try and work with me here," he said, leaning forward and slipping his arms underneath the speedster's armpits, working on trying to heft him up. He couldn't just leave him on the floor; the couch was probably a better option. With a grunt of effort, he managed to get the younger man's upper half up, only to drop him with a yelp of pain as his foot slipped and he stepped on a piece of glass. He cursed, taking a moment to remove it before turning his attention back to Barry, whose face had scrunched up again in discomfort at being dropped.

"If you can hear me, try to help me out a bit," Singh said with a sigh, once again sliding his arms back under the CSI's. He didn't end up getting much help from the disoriented hero, but at least he didn't get resistance. After a small struggle (Barry was heavier than he looked, especially with the suit on), he had gotten Barry laid out on the couch, his lanky body taking up the entire space. Letting out a breath of relief, David sank into the armchair on the either side of the couch, not wanting to let the man out of his sight but not wanting to crowd him, either. He watched the CSI silently, his eyes glued to him. He still couldn't quite believe his discovery, even when he had decided it made so much sense; even if it did explain a damn lot about Barry Allen.

He thankfully didn't have too much time to mull things over; it was about ten minutes later when Barry began to stir, his eyes fluttering and actually opening this time. Singh watched from his spot, unmoving as the speedster blinked hard, trying to get his bearings. It was almost amusing to see the confused look on his face, though decidedly less so when the look of panic set in as the speedster didn't recognize where the hell he was.

"Barry," David spoke finally, standing slowly from his chair. He didn't want to startle him, but it didn't quite work. Barry shot up like a rocket as he heard his name, letting out a wince at the sudden movement and nearly tumbling off of the couch in the process. The forensic scientist's face went through a wide variety of emotions as he saw his boss standing there in lounge clothes staring at him: more confusion, surprise, shock, and finally a subdued look of horror as he seemed to realize that holy shit, he was dressed as the Flash, and his cowl was off, and there was his _boss._

"Captain Singh. Oh, God - I, uhm, I can -" Barry started stuttering, only to stop and wince again, though this time it didn't appear to be from his injuries. Singh watched as he place a hand to his ear, seeming to hit something before speaking again, though not seeming to address him.

"Guys, geeze, not so loud. I'm fine - yes, I'm fine. Yes, I know my tracker cut out. Sorry if I scared you. Just - hang on a minute, alright?"

It was an earpiece, David realized belatedly. The kid had an earpiece in, and was talking to some clearly worried people on the other end of the line. A team obviously, if they had been tracking his progress. As the police captain watched, Barry pressed at his ear again, presumably making it so that this team of his couldn't hear what was happening on his end. And then his wide eyes were turned back to him, his mouth open as he prepared to try and explain himself, but David cut him off.

"Barry," he repeated. "Don't freak out. It's - it's alright. Do you feel okay?" Barry's mouth opened and closed almost in the fashion of a fish at that, his face showing surprise again - he was clearly taken aback.

"I, uhm - yeah, I guess," he replied, almost absentmindedly reaching to feel the bandages that his boss had put on him, and poking lightly at his swollen nose.

"Good," David said with a quick nod. And then, "So...you're the Flash, huh."

It wasn't a question.

Barry was quiet for only a moment, sucking in a breath. "...yeah."

There was another stretch of silence.

"I didn't want you to find out this way," Barry spoke again. _Or at all,_ Singh detected the unspoken words. Clearly if Barry had wanted him to know, he would have been told already. But it didn't matter now.

"You crashed through my window," Singh informed him. "Didn't think it would be a good idea to get the paramedics involved, so…" The captain trailed off, motioning to the bandaged wounds with a wave of his hand.

Barry ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment as if trying to soak everything in. David didn't blame him. This was a lot for himself to handle, but it was probably much the same for Barry. The man hadn't set out this morning with the intent of revealing his secret identity to his boss, he was sure. But his eyes opened again seconds later, and he focused on David once again.

"Thank you," he said. "I - that would have been bad, if you called them," he admitted. "I probably wouldn't have a secret at all anymore."

David nodded slowly. "I figured." Another beat of silence.

"So, uh...you won't - you're not going to…?" Barry started awkwardly, and Singh couldn't help the small, amused smile that spread across his face.

"Tell anyone?" he completed. "Of course not. I would never." Barry seemed incredibly relieved at the news, and David chuckled a bit.

"I, uhm - I'll help you clean up," Barry added after a moment, seeming to finally notice the mess he had made: the blood, the scattered glass, the broken window.

"Talk to Caitlin and Cisco, Barry," Singh said, waving off the offer. "I'm sure they're worried."

"How'd you know it was them that I was talking to?"

"It seemed fitting. Two STAR Labs employees, working with the Flash. Considering your sudden friendship."

Barry let out a small laugh at that. "You're attentive."

"Of course I am. I'm a police captain, Allen." He smiled a bit wider. "Now call your friends."

Allen nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, in obvious higher spirits than before.

Singh listened briefly to Barry's voice trying to calm down his team before turning his attention to the mess that was now his living room with a sigh.

Rob was going to kill him.


End file.
